Interchangeable
by Estoma
Summary: "I can't believe we were stupid enough to think you were anything special." Australian AU for the Caesar's Palace Fic Exchange.


**Author's note: For C, as part of the Caesar's Palace Back to School Fic Exchange. I hope you like it. I've decided to do something different, so here is an Australian AU. All the places mentioned are real. **

A tram rattles by, its bell clattering as it approaches the intersection and makes the ponderous turn onto Bourke Street. With a further racket of bells and the hiss of automatic doors, it pulls up at stop number five and deposits its passengers. The late night drivers slow to a halt at the tram's hazard lights and the 'stop signs' that flag the open doors. Waiting patiently for the most part, they rest their hands on their gear sticks as the passengers are expelled and cross the road at their leisure. One driver presses his hand to the horn and receives a one fingers salute in return.

"How much have you had already?" Haymitch laughs as he steadies Maysilee with a hand on her elbow.

"Few UDLs back at my place…"

"And don't forget the shots you did before you left," Macy adds sharply as they step up onto the platform. In her heels, she is a little unsteady, but Haymitch doesn't offer her a hand up as he does for Maysilee.

With the casual disregard for road rules, found in all Melbournians, that is essential to get anywhere in the city, they cross in the wake of the 112 tram, bound for Fitzroy.

"How far's this bar of yours, Haymitch?" Macy asks.

"Not far, sweetheart."

Unbidden, a smile comes to her face, turning up her lips against her will. It doesn't matter that Haymitch says that to all the girls he knows. She adjusts the neckline of her dress, pulling it a little lower, though nothing like Maysilee's.

Turning up Elizabeth Street, they follow the general crowd, slowing their pace to fit as they weave around street artists and buskers. One man with his guitar wears the costume of a white rabbit, complete with a giant head; it must be stifling in the balmy Melbourne night. He strums away the chords that might be a Jack Johnson song, in more talented hands, or maybe it's just the white furred gloves that inhibit his playing.

By the time they reach Russell Street, Maysilee hangs on Haymitch's arm and Macy walks a little behind. She tells herself it's just because the footpath is too crowded to walk three abreast, and she's tired of being the one who has to walk in the gutter to avoid the parking meters.

* * *

It's seven floors up to the _Rooftop_, and Maysilee clings to Haymitch's arm the whole way.

"I'm so tired, maybe you'll have to carry me," she giggles.

"Why did you say we'd take the stairs, then?" Macy asks, from behind, but neither of them hear her.

On the top deck it's crowded with people. Most are uni students like themselves, jugs of beer or cider in hand, clustered around the rails that border the edge of the roof. With an arm around Maysilee's shoulder, Haymitch leads them over to a clear spot. He has to push his way through as he winds between the cheap plastic tables and he keeps a tight hold of Maysilee. Macy is left to follow in his wake, and she apologises with a smile and a nod, to the people he bumps.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he asks, leaning his forearms on the rail.

"You're so clever to take us here!" Maysilee giggles. "I can see everything."

The Melbourne skyline stretches out. From here, they can see right down Bourke Street, lined with trees that are just beginning to wilt in the heat. The trams look like little toy trains, designed for a child to ride on.

"It's nice up here," Macy concedes.

"Look, the stars are coming out," Haymitch says.

"Where?" Maysilee demands.

"Here, look," Haymitch says, moving to stand behind her, leaning his arms either side of her on the rail. "Follow my finger. That's Venus, there, the bright one above the ANZ tower."

"I feel like they're so close, you could touch them," Maysilee sighs, reaching out her arm and making a finger and a thumb around the bright point of light as if she really could pluck it from the sky.

"I need a drink," Macy says loudly.

"Great, thanks," Haymitch says, but he doesn't quite turn around. "Get a jug, would you, we'll split."

"Yeah, sure," she replies hollowly, and turns to fight her way back through the crowd to the bar. This time, she doesn't bother to apologise to those whose drinks she knocks.

* * *

"What cider have you got on tap?" Macy asks, a little breathlessly after pushing towards the bar. She rests her elbows on it to make sure nobody thinks to push her out of the way.

"Bulmers."

"I'll have a jug," she says, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

As she walks back, keeping one arm up in an attempt to protect her drink, a couple, arm in arm, bump into her. It takes a moment to realise it's Haymitch and her sister. Cold cider splashes down the front of her dress and the tight material turns opaque, showing her black bra underneath. She moves the dripping jug to try to screen herself.

"Ooops!" Maysilee giggles. She steps back to avoid the splash of liquid and wrinkles her nose when a little hits her bare legs.

"Where are you going?"

"Haymitch knows this place with really cheap shots," Maysilee answers.

"You better finish that," Haymitch nods to the jug, three quarters full. "You can come along after."

"Well hang on, help me drink it and we can all go."

"Nah, it's alright," Haymitch says, as if he's doing her a favour. "Come along when you're done."

"Oh, right, well where is it?"

"Oh yeah, Collins street, just around the corner. The X, it's called."

"Should you be going there?"

"Sure, it's fine. Not as bad as the name," Haymitch shrugs, pulling Maysilee a bit closer. "We'll see you there."

* * *

At the door, Macy hands over her license to the bouncer and waits, shifting her weight to one foot, and the other, as he scrutinises it. For a moment, he looks at her with raised eyebrows before handing it back and waving her through.

Inside the club smells of smoke. Someone's been violating the anti smoking laws, or their clothes just smell like it. The only constant light comes from the green exit signs and the coloured spotlights. Every few seconds, the strobe lights mounted behind the DJ flash and illuminate the whole dance floor with their harsh glow.

Macy balks in the door, but the next person gives her an unfriendly shove and she steps through and out of the doorway. Standing on her toes, she scans the crowd, but she's a bit unsteady after sculling nearly the whole jug of cider. She blanches at the couples dancing; the men standing back a little and watching their girls gyrate in their skin-tight dresses, or else they cling together rubbing against each other. Macy blushes, or maybe she's just flushed from too much alcohol.

Making her way around the edge of the dance floor, she stops to look around again. Finally, she sees Haymitch, propped against the wall in the corner. From his stance, it's clear that he's had a few shots and Maysilee isn't in sight. She forces her way through the crowd at the edge to get to him.

"Hey, you made it back," he slurs.

Macy gasps as he reaches out to put a hand around her waist, pulling her closer so she nearly stumbles. But she isn't complaining. For a moment, she's pressed against Haymitch's side and she can smell his aftershave, but Maysilee's perfume too. And then he kisses her.

It's not quite the special moment she'd imagined, laying on the grass, lazily enjoying the sun in the Carlton Gardens. She imagined a quiet afternoon, listening to the trams rattle past, while they laid in the grass and looked up at the patterns the trees made, with the sun shining through. But it's still a kiss.

Their teeth clash, because Macy's nervous and excited, and Haymitch's far too drunk. When they pull away, she beams up into his face and he winks at her.

"You're into it, Maysilee," he slurs.

And suddenly, Macy notices the way his breath reeks of vodka and she wrinkles her nose. He's leaning on her more than she is on him, and his eyes are a bit unfocused.

"Macy, not Maysilee," she says quietly.

"What?"

She raises her voice. "I'm Macy!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Macy just looks at him. If she had a knife, she might just use it. Her face folds into a scowl and she shakes her head. "So you'll just take whoever you can get, huh? We don't mean enough to actually remember?"

"Well you're pretty fucking similar."

"Yeah, looks like we are. We were both dumb enough to think you were anything special."


End file.
